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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275821">That Woman</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShawnaCanon/pseuds/ShawnaCanon'>ShawnaCanon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Baby Boom [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShawnaCanon/pseuds/ShawnaCanon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman formerly akumatized by Hawk Moth asks Gabriel to sponsor a charity event.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Baby Boom [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That Woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For those who wanted more closure with the Fairy Grandmother lady. I hope this satisfies.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Come on, Mabel, you can do it. The kids are counting on you.</em>
</p>
<p>As Mabel LaCrux sat in the huge lobby of the Gabriel building, she struggled to pull together enough self-confidence to make this happen. She hadn’t always been a timid woman. Oh, no. She remembered what it had felt like to believe in herself. But that had been the problem, hadn’t it? She’d been <em>too</em> confident, to the point of self-righteousness. And like a character from a Greek myth, her hubris had been her downfall.</p>
<p>A woman came over to, heels clicking on the marble floor. “Mr. Agreste will see you now. Please come with me.”</p>
<p>Mabel got up and followed the dour looking woman to the elevators. They stood in silence as the elevator ascended, and Mabel beat back the flicker of disapproval she felt at seeing the juvenile flash of red in the woman’s dark hair, marring her otherwise perfectly professional appearance. Mabel didn’t have the right to judge anyone for their appearance or anything else. She knew that, but it was hard to unlearn a lifetime of habit.</p>
<p>When the elevator came to a stop, the woman led Mabel down a large and very intimidating hallway to a pair of huge doors. Without a word, the woman opened one and gestured for Mabel to enter.</p>
<p>Her heart pounding hard, Mabel entered the enormous office and jumped when the door closed behind her.</p>
<p>“Come in,” said the sole occupant of the room, the man behind a large desk. He didn’t look up from what he was doing.</p>
<p><em>You can do this. You can do this.</em> Mabel minced nervously toward the desk. The room was so large, it seemed to take forever to cross, but eventually she stood before the man she’d come to see. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Mr. Agreste.”</p>
<p>Gabriel Agreste looked up from his work, his gaze critical. He leaned back in his chair, steepled his hands, and looked her up and down. “You’re that woman.”</p>
<p>Mabel couldn’t stop a very small sigh from escaping. “Y-yes,” she said. She couldn’t take offense to his words. He was hardly the first or only one to call her that. Strangers and even acquaintances called her ‘that woman’ more often than her actual name.</p>
<p>Infamy was not something she had ever sought, but it had found her nonetheless.</p>
<p>Gabriel was staring at her—not with scorn or distrust, as many did, but with impatience.</p>
<p>“Mr. Agreste, please allow me to introduce myself,” she said, hastening to get to the point before he threw her out. “My name is Mabel LaCrux. I’m here as a representative of the Friends of Children. It-it’s a charity that helps provide for children in need, especially those born as a result of—er—the, um, attack . . . ” She faltered. It was always so difficult to speak directly of what she’d done. (What Hawk Moth had used her to do, she reminded herself for the millionth time.)</p>
<p>Gabriel raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“We’re, um, organizing a marathon to raise money, and we’re having some trouble finding sponsors—”</p>
<p>“I can imagine,” Gabriel drawled.</p>
<p>“And I thought, since you’ve started that children’s fashion line recently, you might be interested in—”</p>
<p>“What part of expanding my business into a new market implies that I’d like to give money away?”</p>
<p>It took Mabel a moment to recover from the interruption. “Well, you—you’ve given to other charities and funds for related causes.”</p>
<p>“True. But why should I want to work with <em>you</em>?”</p>
<p>There it was. The same thing that every potential sponsor so far had said (more or less). It didn’t matter that everyone knew she hadn’t really been responsible. It didn’t matter that she’d devoted every spare moment she’d had since the attack to charities and groups to try to help those affected by what she’d done. All anyone saw anymore was Fairy Grandmother, the supervillain who’d thrown a wrench into so many people’s lives.</p>
<p>The rejection—from this man, of all people—stung, and her indignation brought some of that old confidence to the surface. Her back straightened, and she gave the man in front of her a withering glare. “Because I thought you would be kind. I thought you would look past the messenger and see the children who need help. You’ve already given plenty of money to similar causes. And your son is one of the kindest young men I’ve ever met, the way he stood up for me on TV when everyone was ready to throw me under the bus.”</p>
<p>Gabriel was not disturbed by her sharp tone. If anything, he looked bored. “Adrien takes mostly after his mother.”</p>
<p>“No doubt,” she snapped. “Thank you for your time, sir.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched toward the door.</p>
<p>When she’d made it halfway across the room, she was stopped by Gabriel’s voice. “I haven’t said no yet.”</p>
<p>Mabel turned to gape at him. Surely she had misheard or misunderstood. But he was only watching her impassively. Slowly, expecting him to at any moment ask her what she was doing, she walked back to his desk. When she reached it, she stood in front of him, wondering what to say next.</p>
<p>“Tell me something, Mrs. LaCrux,” Gabriel said, saving her from having to take the next conversational leap. “Did your daughter ever forgive you?”</p>
<p>The question was so unexpected and personal, Mabel momentarily felt weak. Gabriel gestured vaguely to a chair facing his desk, which she took as permission to sink into it. Once she gathered herself, she answered him. “Not exactly. But we’re slowly making progress. She allows me to see my grandson once a week now, though I’m not allowed to take him in public. She’s afraid people will see us together and he’ll suffer for knowing me.”</p>
<p>Gabriel only nodded. It almost would have looked sympathetic, if not for his cool expression.</p>
<p>From the angle of the chair she was in, she caught a glimpse of a framed photo on his desk. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she gestured to it. “May I?” He had asked her something personal, after all. It was only fair that he would reciprocate in kind. Gabriel nodded, and she turned the photo to see it better. It was a photo of two boys. Toddlers. Both with dark hair, but one had green eyes and the other had light blue eyes. The boy with blue eyes was focused on playing with some blocks while the green-eyed boy leaned against him, watching. “They’re adorable,” Mabel said. “Is one of them yours?”</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded. “The one playing with the blocks is my son. The other is my grandson.”</p>
<p>Mabel felt a twist in her guts. Such a sweet moment, with two boys who clearly loved each other, but . . . “How is Adrien doing?” she asked. She had no right to know, of course, and Adrien Agreste was hardly one of the most private celebrities in the world, so it wouldn’t have been hard to ask someone to check his social media for her. Apparently, he posted on it quite a bit.</p>
<p>“As well as a high school senior with a two-year-old <em>can</em> be,” Gabriel answered, an edge to his tone.</p>
<p>Mabel nodded, taking the rebuke. She stood. “May I tell you more about the marathon? The children could really use the help, and we’ve been having such trouble getting sponsors—”</p>
<p>“No,” Gabriel said, cutting her off. “I’ve heard enough. I’ll sponsor your marathon, Mrs. LaCrux.” He bent his head to his work, waving dismissively. “Talk to my assistant about the details.”</p>
<p>Mabel was so thrown, she could hardly believe her ears. He’d agreed! He would donate! They had their first sponsor! And with him backing them, they’d have an easier time getting more. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Agreste. I take back what I said. You <em>are</em> kind!”</p>
<p>He waved again, not even looking up.</p>
<p>She was so excited as she headed for the door, she had to fight to keep the bounce out of her step. It wouldn’t look professional. She needed to hold it in until she was out of the building.</p>
<p>“Mrs. LaCrux.” Gabriel’s voice stopped her again. When she turned to look at him, he said with a strange reluctance, as if the words were being pulled out of him against his will, “For what it’s worth . . . I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.”</p>
<p>Her jaw dropped. It was the first time anyone had actually said that. “Th-thank you, Mr. Agreste,” she said, stammering from the surprise of it. No one had even acknowledged before that she was being treated as an outcast by so many people when no other akuma victim was treated that way. Her eyes darted to the photo on his desk, though he’d turned it around so she couldn’t see it now. His son had dark hair, even though his was platinum blond. Dark hair like his assistant, who was still only his assistant after everything. Mabel could tell that much from the way he’d spoken about her. “And for what it’s worth, Mr. Agreste . . . I’m sorry, too.”</p>
<p>He only grunted, refusing to take the apology.</p>
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